


Never Enough

by TooLateToLeave



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brotherhood, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Mentions of the other Feanorians, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27540340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooLateToLeave/pseuds/TooLateToLeave
Summary: A brief insight into the relationship of Celegorm and Curufin.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Tolkien Gen Week 2020





	Never Enough

There are days when the aches between breaths become tangible. Where you are overly conscious of how the air expands your lungs, of the time it takes for the exhale. It’s the same days where the gaps between words linger for just slightly too long, like the small space of time when you jump that you hover in the air before gravity pulls you down.

Celegorm was intimately familiar with those days. The blistering sense of not enough crushing down on his chest like when he dives too deep into the water that the pressure becomes crushing and the lack of oxygen asphyxiating. Asphyxiation had always sounded like a romantic word to him; and he supposed that all the love he had ever known had been like that too. Crushing.

It’s not that his brothers tried to be crushing with their love. It’s just what happens when you are the third of seven and have brothers who are all disgustingly talented in their own right to compete with. He loved them for it, and they loved him. Of that, he had no doubt. But love didn’t stop the absolute crushing worthlessness that sat upon his chest on days like today when his father laughed to brightly at one of Morifinwë’s sarcastic comments, or how his mother's eyes lit up whenever Maitimo hugged her.

The only response that Celegorm seemed to elicit from his mother was worry. It wasn’t uncalled for, quite the opposite. Celegorm had never been renowned for his decision making skills. When Oromë had invited him to join his hunters, it was perhaps one of the proudest moments of his life; until he had looked towards his mother and seen Nerdanel… happy wasn’t quite the word. Neither really was proud. And yet there was nothing negative about the expression either. It was the look of someone who was happy and proud of an achievement that they didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. The look of a person enjoying a song in a foreign language.

Indeed for all that his family loved him they didn’t really understand what it felt like to feel more at home in a forest than behind a desk. Didn’t it chafe them? The endless monotony?

He guessed not.

Still, he loved them. People assumed that he held greatest love for Curufin, and perhaps he had a soft spot for him; but he didn’t love him more. Yet the day that Curufin had come out of the forge with tears running down his face and snot from his nose, Celegorm had been the only one who could understand.

“I’m not good enough.” Curufin had sobbed then, and Celegorm had taken him out on a hunt and allowed him to hit the trees until his hands bled. He knew it didn’t make it feel better. He’d tried that technique himself.

“You’re more than enough for me.”

And Curufin had frozen. Lord knows those were the words that Celegorm had wished someone had said to him when he was younger and felt the oppression of expectation upon him. But if nobody had been there to say those words when he needed them, then he would make sure that Curufin heard them from someone; even if that someone had to be him.


End file.
